


Kiss Kiss, Fight a Creep

by vaguelyaperson



Category: Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: (nothing major - some 1a are first years and some are 2nd and 3rd years), Alternate Universe - Age Changes, Bakubowl, Bakugou Katsuki Fights A Lot, Bakugou Katsuki Swears A Lot, Mentions of Original Ouran Characters, Minor Violence, Multi, Multishipping Field Day, Set at Ouran High School, Toxic Masculinity except Everytime You Get Validated It Gets Slower, Trans Bakugou Katsuki, Trans Male Character, all your faves are pampered rich shits, also you know how sometimes ouran made sense?, and then there was an inexplicable alice in wonderland episode, oh yeah and bakugou is rich, send help, yeah don't expect this fic to make any more sense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-01-15 08:22:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 19,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18495079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaguelyaperson/pseuds/vaguelyaperson
Summary: All Bakugou Katsuki was looking for was to prove how tough he was, and to kick any possibility of getting misgendered in the face before it could happen. How the hell he got referred to something as prissy sounding as theHost Clubhe'll never know.Katsuki was never good at anything to do with dating or romance. All he knows is that he has fists and he knows how to use them. But, hey, if that's what these people want to keep him around for, then maybe they're not such bad company after all.{A story about Found Family, and the human experiences that money can neither save or define.}





	1. Goddamn, and the Campus is PINK

One to two weeks. That’s how long it would take to get the new, corrected student ID printed. Katsuki was pissed. No, he was beyond pissed. He had already been through this whole process in requesting an ID with his preferred name and gender marker. But somewhere along the school bureaucracy, someone royally fucked up, and on orientation day, he got handed a card with a big fat F on it.

Paying the fee to get a new ID wasn’t a nonstarter. Katsuki’s family had plenty of money to send him to this golden shining beacon of an institution, so they had plenty enough more to pay a measly fee. What pissed off Katsuki the most was that the school was already _aware_ of his “situation,” and yet this fuck up still happened.

Sure, the student services office apologized profusely and offered to wave the fee as compensation. But that wasn’t enough. The whole thing just made him itch uncomfortably in his skin. If this switch-up happened, then what other switch-up’s could happen? Were his teachers going to call him by his birth name when classes started? Did other students know?

He wore his suit slacks as baggy as possible – per uniform code – and made sure to keep his brows low – since scowling made him seem more masculine. He walked the halls with a purpose, his hands stuffed into his pockets.

Katsuki needed a way to combat this growing, itchy anxiety. He needed a way to prove to his peers that he was undoubtedly and absolutely a guy, before any misconceptions or rumors started floating around. People knowing he was trans he could deal with. People doubting his gender identity was license for a fist to the face.

(But, unfortunately, fighting in the first week of school wasn’t conductive to keeping as nice and clean of a record as he wanted.)  

Katsuki saw the solution to his problems right up ahead. The office of extracurricular activities. Yes. That was perfect.

He shoved the door open and swaggered in, right up to the third-year girl sitting behind the reception desk; she was wearing one of those nauseating sunflower yellow dresses. Katsuki was so glad he was able to at least buy the men's uniform for the school. He would've vomited had he had to wear such a froo-froo getup, dysphoria aside.

“Oi. What’s the manliest, most popular club you got here on campus?” He demanded, as a greeting.

The third-year took a moment to blink in offense, but Katsuki had bigger problems to worry about than upsetting an upperclassman.

“Are… are you looking to join a sport?” She asked back, starting to reach for pamphlets and whatnot on the different extracurricular activities.

“I don’t really care what it is, as long as it isn’t something sissy like badminton or poetry.”

“I see…” The volunteer receptionist frowned and continued to shift through pamphlets. “Well, there’s soccer,”

Playing with a bunch of pampered shits, whose parents probably bribed the coaches? No, fucking thanks.

“health and fitness club,”

Code for yoga and kale smoothies.

“equestrian club,”

Did Katsuki look like some whimsy girl from a horse movie?

“or…” the girl paused over a note sitting on their desk. Katsuki couldn’t quite read the small, neat handwriting from the angle he looked down. The girl picked up the note and squinted at it, and then looked back to Katsuki, and then back to the note.

“Actually, there’s a club that’s currently holding auditions this week, and I think you might be what they’re looking for.”

At Katsuki’s apprehensive expression, the girl quickly added on, “It’s a boys-only club, and it’s one of the most eminent clubs on campus. Very exclusive.”

That sounded good enough for him.

“Alright, where do I sign up for these… auditions?”

The girl smiled, relieved that he was being somewhat cooperative. She picked out a map of the school campus and circled the room. The second he had his metaphorical ticket, Katsuki muttered out an obligatory thanks and sped right out of there.

He found the room easy enough. Music Room 3. That made him uneasy. He really hoped this wasn’t some acapella group or pompous film club. But the volunteer receptionist had said that these guys, whoever they were, were looking for someone like him. At the very worst, they were a film club and needed someone to play the role of the badass protagonist.

That thought made Katsuki feel a little better. So, he pushed open the door and went inside.

He was greeted with actual fucking rose petals and a group of various pretty boys.

“Hello, welcome to the Host Club!”


	2. Introducing the Gary Stus and Metrosexuals

Katsuki was officially plotting murder. If he wasn’t absolutely livid enough before to throw hands with someone, he fucking certainly was now.

“What the fuck is this shit?” Were the first words out of his mouth.

“Oh! He’s perfect!” Said back one of the pretty boys. Some blond fancy pants.

“Look, I don’t know what the hell that receptionist girl meant about you looking for somebody like me, but I want no part in this flowery bullshit.” Katsuki turned around and grabbed the door handle.

“So manly!” Another one of the boys said. That caught Katsuki dead in his tracks. Pride, it shall be the death of him.

Katsuki shifted back around. “Huh?”

“Just, everything about you, bro. It’s so manly.” The boy in question had somehow rolled up the sleeves of his suit jacket to his shoulders, and the top three buttons of his shirt were undone. He also had the stupidest fucking pointy red hair Katsuki had ever seen in his life. The red-haired pretty boy looked to his companions. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m willing to initiate him without a formal audition.”

Katsuki took this moment to actually take stock of who he was dealing with.

There were six of these pretty boys in total. Standing a bit off from everyone, on the left, was that blond French-looking motherfucker who had spoken first. He was currently glancing between his own _literally_ _sparkling reflection_ in a pocket mirror and at Katsuki. On the right of the group, and leaning against the red head who had called Katsuki manly, was another blond, but this one had a much more laidback posture. He had a weird black highlight in his hair that looked almost like a lightning bolt.

In the center of the group were two serious looking boys. One had that well-kept, glasses, insufferable look like the kind of nerd Katsuki loved to taunt. The other had a – and what in the actual fuck – heteromorphic appearance. Like one of those birds that got split down the middle in sexual characteristics. Red and white hair, split right at the center part, like some half’n’half Gary Stu bastard.

And then towering behind everyone else was this silver haired herculean giant. Even through his suit, Katsuki could see the definition of this guy’s muscles. Part of the guy’s hair covered one eye, and he wore a black face mask over his mouth. Meaning the only part of his face that Katsuki could see was one watchful, captivating eye. He had that captivating mysterious ninja vibe, or whatever.

Katsuki really fucking hated how attractive all these boys were. Even that four-eyed nerd. He could tell how each one had an appeal in a different way.

So, was that what this was about? They were looking for a manly type or something? But for what? A host club? What were they hosting?

He faced them and crossed his arms. “Alright, you have a minute to explain what the hell this ‘host club’ is, and why I should give a damn.”

The nerd in glasses stepped forward with an eager explanation. Katsuki’s eyes scanned the wall until he spotted a clock he could use to time the boy.

“The Host Club is a long-standing and integral representation of all that Ouran High expects of its students. Charisma, creativity, etiquette, loyalty, progressive ideals. We aim to create a space that makes all feel welcome and esteemed. I am the vice president, Tenya Iida, and I do my absolute best to ensure that my fellow club members and I carry the flame that has been passed down to us from our renowned founder, Suoh Tamaki. A man who was so beloved in his years at this school that he has gone on to occupy the highest, most influential spaces of Japan’s elite. In fact–”

Right at the 45 second mark, the guy with the Pikachu look cut in and said, “We basically kill all our free time entertaining cute girls. It’s great.”

Katsuki stared as four-eyes – he already forgot the guy’s name – sputtered at Pikachu for interrupting him. Entertain girls? That was it? That’s what this apparent exclusive and super important club was all about?

“You’re shitting me.” Katsuki felt like laughing. “So, what, I just entertain a couple girls, and then I can get into any circle I want?”

“It’s _more than that_.” Four-eyes stressed. “We do so much for this school, nay, for this country even.”

“Nah, we just pretty much make girls feel special, and then occasionally follow along with whatever community service schemes the vice prez comes up with.” Pikachu interrupted again.

Katsuki thought about it. “You ever have to, uh, fight anyone? Ya’know. To defend some poor girl’s honor or something.”

The red-haired boy nodded. “Yeah, it happened a time or two last year. We’re always ready to come to someone’s defense. Whether girl or boy. To let anyone pick on someone weaker than them…” the boy clenched his fist. “It just ain’t manly.”

“And do you ever get in trouble for fighting anyone?”

Pikachu shrugged. “We pretty much have diplomatic immunity with this school. One of the other founders made sure of that.”

Okay, okay, this wasn’t sounding all that bad anymore. What a piece of cake. Katsuki would just have to toss a couple compliments at girls, fight creeps off for them, and occasionally do community service or whatever? And then he was guaranteed a space in Japan’s elite? Forget just proving to everyone that he was a dude. This was a serious upgrade.

“Alright, I’ll sign up.” Katsuki said.

“Yes!” The red-haired guy cheered.

“Très bon!” Frenchie with a pocket mirror agreed.

“Wait!” Four-eyes shot a hand up. “Only our president has the final say in this matter!”

Everyone nodded and looked to the peppermint boy standing in the middle. Katsuki just noticed that this guy and the ninja behind him were the only ones who hadn’t spoken that entire time.

The supposed president scrutinized Katsuki with those dumb handsome heterochromia eyes. Katsuki glared right back, just daring the pretty boy to say no.

“C’mon,” red-haired boy begged, “He’s exactly what the girls would want.”

Slowly, the president nodded. “Yes.” And then to Katsuki he said, deadpan, “I don’t like you. You seem like an arrogant prick. But you don’t strike me as a misogynist creep. So, yes, I think you’ll do.”

Katsuki blinked, slowly absorbing the words. What kind of acceptance speech was that?

“Oi, oi, the hell you mean that ‘I’ll do?’ I’m the best you’re gonna get!” Katsuki jumped into fighting stance. “You wanna fucking go?”

Half’n’half remained impassive. “Not really. I don’t think you could beat me anyways.”

“Oh,” Katsuki’s face broke out in an excited grin, readying for a brawl. “We’ll see about that.”

At that, Katsuki charged. He readied his right fist for his foolproof uppercut. But then the bastard parried it. Katsuki threw another blow, and Half’n’half blocked it, threw off Katsuki’s arm and his balance like Katsuki was just some rag doll. It was really pissing Katsuki off. He jumped at the bastard again, going for that dumb pretty boy face, and then found himself being thrown backwards.

Katsuki landed against some stand, and from behind him he heard a sudden crash.

He looked behind himself to see the remains of a porcelain vase, shattered on the floor.

Ah, shit.

“Oh, man.” Red-hair groaned. “We were going to auction that vase.”

“The starting bid was at eight million yen too!” Pikachu added.

Four-eyes looked like he was about to have a heart attack. He muttered to himself, “Why did Kyouya Senpai request that we have that vase on display for our auditions? What kind of tradition…”

Katsuki growled to himself and stood up, brushing himself off. “Whatever, my family could afford a better replacement.”

“Even so,” the president said, stepping forward. “You’re too volatile. I don’t think we can start you off as a host just yet. So, for now, you’ll be our personal guard dog.”

“I don’t fucking–”

“Keep in mind, that for destroying our property, we could have you expelled from this school. Whether you pay us back or not.”

Katsuki snapped his mouth shut. How the hell did such a douchebag become president of this ‘esteemed’ club or whatever? He was such a hypocrite. Where did he get off accusing Katsuki of being arrogant?

Still, that didn’t change the fact that Katsuki knew he was in a bind here. He had thrown himself into this too far already, and there was no backing down or backing out.

What a start to the school year.


	3. Short-Stacked Bitches and Snitches

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **tw: m*neta being m*neta, & transphobic language**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> (don't worry, there's a positive resolution)

Once things had somewhat settled, Katsuki was introduced to everyone in the group. He forgot all their names and years almost instantly.

Furthermore, he was informed that he was to spend all his free time with the club or in the music room. And, apparently, his study and homework time was also considered part of his free time. The only times he would ever get away from these clowns were during class or when he went home at night.

If it weren’t for the threat of expulsion – and jail time – Katsuki would have murdered someone by now. And the first week of school wasn’t even over yet.

While the rest of the club was nice enough, the president seemed to have a personal vendetta against Katsuki’s entire existence. Katsuki thought that being a guard dog just meant that he’d be the bouncer, or maybe even escort the club around and make sure they didn’t trip over anything and mess up their pretty perfect little faces.

But nope. Seems that President Peppermint was really insistent on the ‘dog’ part. The club had Katsuki fetching things, moving furniture around, carrying shit.

And no one else seemed to notice or care what an asshole the president was. It turned out that he was the president because he was the most popular request of the club’s clients.

Girls _adored_ his stupid face. They all called him the ‘prince’ of the club. Fawned over him like the actual fucking heir to the Japanese throne had walked into the room. It was already annoying enough watching all these airhead girls work themselves stupider over these pretty boys, but the way the girls acted around the ‘prince’ was especially nauseating.

Katsuki wanted to set the president on fire.

The only thing that held him back, besides the whole aforementioned threat of expulsion, was that the president seemed to have already had a run in with fire. Or something hot. No one said anything about it, but the skin around the president’s left eye was an old scarred, matted red.

Every now and then, when the president thought no one was looking, he had this sad, far off look in those multicolored eyes.

Katsuki would have felt sorry for the guy. Clearly, he had been through some shit.

But then the bastard would turn right around and use his ‘tortured soul’ as an angle to attract more clients.

Absolutely infuriating.

Katsuki tried avoid the president. Instead, he found that the shitty-spiked red head dude and his dunce of a companion made decent company. Shitty Hair never barked out orders at Katsuki, and always made sure to thank him or compliment him for his help. And Pikachu was just so chill about everything that it was hard to get mad at him. For having that whole useless gamer vibe about him, he was surprisingly suave. The kid had a whole repertoire of Shakespeare quotes memorized, just ready to recite to his clients.

That ninja dude was also decent. At first, Katsuki was confused as to why the club needed a tough guard dog type, when they had Goliath Kakashi over there. But Katsuki quickly learned that this guy’s whole gig was the ‘gentle giant’ thing. Girls loved him for what an absolute gentleman he was, and for how safe he made them feel. It also helped that he was so mysterious, or something like that.

Sparkle dude… Katsuki really didn’t see the appeal in him. But he too had his regulars.

So, Katsuki just stuck close to Shitty Hair and Pikachu, and tried to ignore the way the girls stupidly whispered and giggled about the ‘hot bad boy’ that the club had picked up.

If anything, he didn’t seem to be in any danger of being misgendered.

Or at least, that’s what he thought, until one day at lunch. It was four days into the school year, and Katsuki wasn’t anywhere close to happy about having to spend even his lunchtime with the Host Club. He got his food and sat down next to Shitty Hair, ready to ignore all the bullshit.

“Yup, right over there. That’s her.”

Katsuki felt the hairs on his neck prick up. He had a really uncomfortable feeling that those whispers were about him.

Some nasally voice was whispering about Katsuki behind his back. “I have my sources, and I know for a fact that’s a girl.”

Katsuki’s stomach dropped. He gripped his fork.

“Dude, no way. She looks so much like a guy, though.”

“I know. I bet she realized that she was such an ugly butch that she had to start dressing like a guy.”

Katsuki wanted to scream. He wanted to fight. He wanted to blow something up. But mostly he didn’t want to start crying. Not here. Not in front of all these people.

It wasn’t like he had heard all this before. He had. Too many times. His head swirled with all the horrible, horrible things people had said about him and his identity.

“Hey, bro, you alright?”

Katsuki snapped out of his trance to see that Shitty Hair had a hand on his shoulder, looking at him with clear, sincere concern.

“Fuck off. I’m fine.” Katsuki snapped. He shrugged off Shitty Hair’s hand. He didn’t want to be coddled or cared for like some damsel in distress. This was his problem. His fight. He could handle it on his own.

Katsuki threw his fork down and stood up. When he turned around, he found that the guy who had been whispering about him was this short, ugly, purple blobbed bitch of a kid.

“Oi, you got something to say, you can say it to my face!” Katsuki held up a fist.

“Shit!” The obnoxious runt said, wide-eyed. “She even sounds like a guy!”

Shitty Hair jumped up to stand beside Katsuki. “Hey, hey, what’s going on here?”

The runt smirked and crossed his arms. “You’re the Host Club, right? You only accept men, correct? Well, I happen to know that this one here is really just a girl in drag.”

Katsuki could feel his face pale. People were now looking up from their meals, curious about the confrontation. Eyes were now on him, waiting for his response. He started to shake.

That’s when the masked guy of the club stood up. He walked up to the runt, absolutely towering over him. There was probably a meter difference in height. The kid faltered in his confidence.

“If you have a formal concern, you can take it to the club president or vice president _in private_. We don’t take kindly to anyone trying to tarnish the reputation of any our members.”

“Additionally,” now President Prince had stood up and interjected himself into the situation, “we already know of the ‘so-called’ source of your information. It was an unfortunate computer error. Bakugou here is a boy, _not a girl_. We can produce papers to prove it, if you’re so inclined.”

Now the purple blobbed hair brat started to sweat.

“Do you have any further concern?” The president asked, a dangerous glint in his eye.

“N-no,” the runt trembled. “None at all. I’ll just… I’ll be on my way.”

“That would be best.” Masked guy nodded. “You may find it to your benefit to never interact with the Host Club again.”

“R-right!” He squeaked out. And then almost in a flash, he and his equally obnoxious friends had retreated.

Once people realized that the situation was resolved, and that there was nothing else to see, they all returned to their meals and mindless chatter. The members of the Host Club sat back down at their table.

Katsuki stood dumbfounded. His hands still shook, almost on instinct, not quite believing the danger was passed. It worked? People believed that? People would believe from here on out that Katsuki was a bonified guy, just caught up in the consequences of a technical error?

“You good now, man?” Shitty Hair asked.

“Y-yeah.” Katsuki breathed out. “Yeah, whatever.” He grabbed his food tray and bag. “I’ll be in the club room.”

He didn't want to look at anyone. Didn't want to check to see if anyone was watching him over their shoulder. Shame and remnants of fear burned in him. That was his fight. And then the rest of them, people he didn't even know that well, stepped in and... defended him...?

No, that couldn't be right. People didn't just _do that_ for strangers. The only person Katsuki ever knew to jump to anyone's help like that was... well... Katsuki hadn't seen or heard of that person in awhile. And that person was an anomaly anyways. 

No, no, this wasn't the end of it. The president probably just didn't want the school to think that the club made such a blunder to accidentally accept a 'girl' in its ranks, and he just needed to kick Katsuki out when they were away from the crowds. 

Whatever. Not like it mattered. Katsuki hated this stupid fucking club anyways. Just as long as no other rumors about his gender got out, he'd survive just fine without these bratty little pretty boys. He got to the room and buried himself in what little homework he had. Might as well take advantage of this quiet, set-aside location while he still could.

When lunch hour was officially over, the rest of the Host Club returned to the room. 

“Bakugou?”

He glanced up to see the president staring at him.

“Ya gonna kick me out of your club now?” Katsuki growled.

The president didn't answer that. “I had Iida look more into the… computer error that has been causing you problems.” Beside him, Four-Eyes held out something to Katsuki. “I believe you were due this at the start of the year.”

Katsuki looked at the thing in the vice president's hands. It was a student ID. But not just any student ID. The name ‘Bakugou Katsuki’ and one handsome large M stared right back at him.

Oh.

“We apologize deeply, on behalf of Ouran, for any misfortune you may have suffered.” The vice president said with a bow. 

Katsuki slowly accepted the corrected ID, a little overwhelmed. They... weren't kicking him out? They knew about his gender and still supported him? What the hell? What kind of people... He had no idea how to react, much less form any words to thank his fellow club members. 

All he could think was...

Maybe the club president wasn’t such a bastard after all.


	4. Do I Get to Punch Something Yet?

The incident in the dining hall had been smoothed over so easily that no rumors surfaced over Katsuki’s speculated gender. In fact, during open club hours, a couple girls approached Katsuki to express their sympathy over such a misconception.

“I can’t believe that boy thought you were a girl.” One girl said. “I mean, who in the right mind would look at someone as masculine as you and think that?”

Ah, that sure as hell was gender euphoric to hear.

Another girl, a wildly pink haired chick who Katsuki recognized as one of the regulars, nodded energetically. She was friends with Shitty Hair and Pikachu, and as a good friend, liked to support their business by being a paying client. “Yeah. And how dare he call you ugly. I bet he’s just jealous cause he’s such a disgusting cretin.”

The other girls shuddered. The first girl chirped in, “Yeah, he caused all sorts of problems last year. We’re so happy to see him put in his place.”

Katsuki frowned. “That brat ever bother you?”

They all nodded. Katsuki saw an opportunity if he ever did. He grinned.

“Hey, uh, if you ever need me to take care of any creeps like that for you…”

The girls all lit up at that.

“Would you?” One of the other regulars beamed, the third girl there, clasping her hands together. Katsuki was pretty sure someone mentioned that she was the wealthiest of the regulars. Her favorite was the prince.

“Is there someone in mind?” He asked.

The heiress chick twiddled her fingers and looked down. “Well, yes… there’s this boy who sits behind me in history… he’s always playing with my hair… pulling on my ponytail sometimes… one time he made this comment about my chest…”

She was indeed a beautiful girl, with the kind of curves teenage boys made all sorts of nasty comments about. Katsuki could easily imagine all the disgusting whispers _she_ had heard behind _her_ back, from the day she hit puberty, probably.

Katsuki cracked his knuckles. “Just tell me where I can find this punk.”

The girl told him. Before heading out, Katsuki had half a mind to inform the club president of his intentions. President Half'n'half gave him permission – not that Katsuki was asking for permission. But the president was also interested in making sure that his regulars felt safe.

Katsuki waited until evening, so that he could use the darkening sky to his advantage and style. Katsuki found the nameless extra easily enough. The guy was predictably a wimp. All Katsuki had to do was shove the guy against an alley wall and threaten to re-arrange his innards if he didn’t leave the clients of the Host Club alone, and the guy was crying and promising all his possessions as reparations.

It was a little disappointing. Katsuki had been itching for an actual fight. He punched the guy in the gut, just as a warning.

When he returned to the room the next day, he found both the president and the heiress chick waiting for him. It wasn’t open club hours, so she was the only girl in the room.

“Iida made sure to inform the teacher, and the seating chart has been rearranged.” Half’n’half informed Katsuki.

“Yeah, trust me, that bitch ain’t gonna bother you anymore.” Katsuki grinned at the girl.

She let out a happy sound, and before Katsuki could even react, she jumped forward to give him a hug. It was a quick embrace, and she was back to the prince’s side soon enough.

“Thank you, thank you, so much, both of you.” She cried a little. “I feel so much safer.”

Once the president and vice president ensured that she didn’t require any additional services, the girl thanked them all again, and waved them off as she left to head for morning classes.

Katsuki crossed his arms once she left. “Hey, uh, how come you haven’t done anything about that bastard before? If she’s one of your loyal clients or whatever.”

“She never brought up the issue before.” Half’n’half looked to Katsuki. “But something about you must have made her feel like she could tell you.”

The compliment settled in Katsuki in such a way that made him feel disgustingly mushy inside.

“Yeah, well, I thought you guys had your hands in everything at this dumb school. You should have already known. You know, through connections, or whatever.”

The president tilted his head, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “Are you suggesting we formally expand our protective services past the open hours of the club?”

“No. I’m questioning why the hell you haven’t already.”

This time, the president actually smiled. Beside him, the VP was nodding happily. When Katsuki looked around at the other club members, he could also see their approval.

“That is a fair complaint. Would you like to spearhead such a service?” Half'n'half asked, still smiling like he wasn't the idiot who was too slow to come up with such a thing first. These people were _so damn lucky_ Katsuki had stuck around. 

“Hell yeah, I would.”

Four-Eyes stepped forward. 

“I think, if I may make such an assumption, that you understand now what sets this Host Club apart from any other extracurricular on this campus.” He said. “We are more than an entertainment service. We have a real influence on the happenings in this school, and it is our responsibility to ensure that attending Ouran is a positive experience for anyone – whether they are our client or not. But especially if they are our client.”

Okay. Katsuki was starting to understand. At the very least, it made more sense why the vice president took such a silly sounding club so seriously.

And it sounded like being a member of this damned club was gonna be a lot more convoluted than originally thought. But since when did Katsuki ever turn down a challenge?

“Furthermore,” the VP continued, “Todoroki and I have discussed it, and we believe you are ready to start entertaining your own clients.”

Katsuki’s eyes went wide. So soon? He thought he’d be in the dog house for a month, at least. Still, he was more than happy that he had proved himself worthy. Whatever he did.

“Even so, we need you to behave yourself.” The president said. “I can take away this privilege easily, if your temper causes more problems.”

Okay. Never mind all the sort of tolerant things Katsuki had been thinking of the president. Half’n’half was definitely still a bastard.

“One day you’re gonna realize how fucking lucky you are to have me.” Katsuki jabbed a finger at the president.

Those heterochromia eyes just glanced down at the finger impassively, one brow quirked. “I should hope so. I really don’t want to regret including you. I don’t like having to regret anything in life.”

“Then don’t regret anything. Do whatever the fuck you want, and just deal with the consequences as they come.” Katsuki pulled back his arm to cross them again. “Life’s too short to worry over things that make you feel bad.”

He heard a soft “ _so manly_ ” from behind him.

The president looked back up at Katsuki’s face, his expression thoughtful. Almost surprised that Katsuki could be so wise. “I’ll consider that.”

Half’n’half then started to turn away. “Iida, make sure that Bakugou understands how requests work. He’ll start receiving clients today, should any requests come through.”

“Understood, president!”

Starting today, Katsuki was a host.


	5. He's Full of Gay, That's Why His Hair's So Big

Katsuki was excited about becoming a host. In theory. More like, he was thrilled that he was promoted from guard dog duty… but he didn’t know a thing about becoming a host.

Sure, he had been watching the rest of the club as they entertained hordes of tittering girls, but he didn’t think he was capable of doing what they did. There was a lot of ‘what can I get for you, ma’am’ and ‘any way you like’ gestures that Katsuki could not imagine degrading himself with.

His only saving grace was that he noticed that each boy in the club had a different style of hosting. It wasn’t all about fetching tea and rearranging cushions for spoiled clients. Once tea was served, they had to entertain the girls somehow, afterall.

Ninja Guy, for example, let the girls carry most of the conversation. Sparkles mostly talked about himself, but did a lot of weird arts and crafts with the girls – like cheese cube sculptures? Whatever that was about. Half’n’half blabbered on about life in general (his studies, the club, food, ect ect), but since he had a talent for littering in a few sincere and personalized compliments for his clients, the girls hung onto every word. Pikachu was a standard flirt. Four-Eyes was especially doting.

The only one that Katsuki hadn’t quite figured out was Shitty-Hair. There didn’t seem to be any pattern to how he entertained his clients. Sure, Shitty-Hair had that whole gym dude vibe to him, but he also read women’s magazines. And sometimes he playfully flirted, and other times he acted like a big brother.

Katsuki ended up asking him before open club hours. He and Shitty-Hair were setting up some chairs and tables for that day’s theme. Technically this was just Katsuki’s job, but Shitty-Hair wanted to help out.

And Katsuki begrudgingly would not turn down Shitty-Hair’s company.

Shitty-Hair paused, thrown off by the unexpected question, and then rubbed the back of his head in thought. “Uh, I dunno, man. I guess if I had to describe my hosting style, I’d say it’s the gay best friend.”

“Huh? So, what, you braid hair and talk about boy troubles?” Katsuki asked, as the two picked up a table and started to walk with it.

“I mean, if that’s what a girl wants to do, then sure. I don’t mind. But there’s more to it. I think.”

Katsuki quirked a brow in question. The two put down the table. Shitty-Hair stared upwards as he considered his response.

“I think the real appeal is that I’m an attractive guy, ya’know. Eye candy for straight girls. But since I’m gay they know I’m never gonna make a move on them or do anything inappropriate. And for girls who appreciate an attractive guy, but are uncomfortable with just how straight men are, I think it’s safe for them, in a way. If that makes sense.”

Katsuki twitched his mouth, absorbing that. 

“So, your thing is letting girls objectify you.”

Shitty-Hair blushed at that, and then laughed a little self-consciously. “I guess you could put it that way. And I get that not every gay guy would be into this sort of thing. But, I dunno. I think girls are cool.”

“Cool?” That wasn’t a word Katsuki would normally use to describe girls. Especially since he spent so much of his life rejecting anything remotely feminine in order to keep up the image of a cool, unaffected guy.

“Yeah!” Hair-For-Brains, as he clearly was, said.

Katsuki rolled his eyes at that and picked up a chair. Shitty-Hair followed suit with another chair.

“Are you asking cause you’re trying to figure out what your hosting style would be?” Shitty-Hair asked with an annoyingly perceptive grin.

“ _Tch_ ,” Katsuki immediately responded. “Why would I put that much thought into it? You lot picked me for some stupid thing or whatever that girls are into.”

“Yeah.” Shitty-Hair agreed. “Mostly for the bad boy thing.”

Ugh, there it was again. The thing girls had been giggling about since they saw him with the host club. The _bad boy_. Katsuki wasn’t a fucking bad boy. Punk, maybe. But he followed the law and did his work and intended on succeeding through honest means. He wasn’t some gangster trash.

But was that going to have to be his style? He groaned.

“Don’t worry, man. I bet you’ll be a natural at hosting.” Shitty-Hair encouraged, completely misinterpreting the meaning behind the groan.

Katsuki just groaned again and grabbed another chair.  


	6. Porcupines Don't Make Good Boyfriends

Fortunately, for his first official day of hosting, Katsuki didn’t have to think too hard about his hosting style. The theme that day was a wine tasting event. (More like, sparkling wines and ciders, since everyone in attendance was underage.) Sparkles hosted the event, and Katsuki tried not to be impressed with how each ‘wine’ selection paired so well with the foods that Sparkles had picked out.

Additionally, to it admittedly being a nice event, it meant that Katsuki didn’t have to do a lot of hosting. He just poured the wine and pretended he wasn’t bored out of his skull over every fact and tidbit about some obscure cheese they were serving.

And his guests? Well, he lucked out on that front again. Katsuki’s first two clients were friends of Pikachu and Shitty-Hair: Pinky, and this awesome looking rocker chick.

The rocker chick had managed to switch out that ridiculous little ribbon at the dress collar for a black tie. She also shortened the sleeves and dress skirt, and wore a dark plaid skirt underneath. To top it all off, she sported fingerless fishnet gloves and combat boots. She pulled off the entire look flawlessly. Katsuki never thought he’d ever admire anything to do with those stupid yellow dresses.

Since they were all pretty much a group of friends already, Katsuki and his clients sat near Shitty Hair and Pikachu. The conversation carried on easily from there.

Katsuki discovered that he and the rocker chick shared a similar taste in music. The two hit it off quick enough. He and Pinky didn’t have all that much in common, but she had just enough ‘I really don’t care about _how_ you’re supposed to properly taste wine, I’m just want my damn drink’ in her, that he was fine with her company anyways. (Besides, she seemed to be the only girl in the room who wasn’t giving rocker chick the stink eye for her alternative outfit.)

By the time the actual wine tasting concluded and the hosts were left to individually entertain their guests, Katsuki had such an easy vibe going with these two girls that he just about forgot that he was a host.

This was entirely a new experience. Katsuki wasn’t used to getting along with girls. If anything, he never really gave them a chance. That afternoon, occasionally, he would glance over at Shitty Hair and muse for a bit. If these were the type of girls that Shitty Hair was hanging out with outside of club hours, then he could understand why Shitty Hair would think girls were cool.

If these types of girls were his only clients, Katsuki could actually enjoy hosting.

Yet, in the end, life had a way of reminding Katsuki that he wasn’t allowed to have nice things.

As soon as those ‘bad boy’ loving girls got wind that Katsuki was accepting clients, they started requesting him in droves.

Now Katsuki was in deep shit. He stared slack-jawed at the list that Four-Eyes had presented him. All those girls who thought he was a jerk and wanted him for it.

“What the fuck could they possibly want with a ‘bad boy?!’”

Four-Eyes adjusted his glasses. “Well, if I understand correctly from my observations, many of our clients are enticed by the idea of enjoying something they cannot have. I believe it keeps things more interesting.”

Katsuki stuck out his tongue in disgust. It sounded like the whole thing with Shitty Hair’s clients feeling ‘safe’ around him because he’d never make a move on them, but, well, in a worse way.

“So, what, am I supposed to string them along or something?”

Four-Eyes had the decency to balk at such a notion. Good. Katsuki would have been tempted to punch him if he reacted otherwise.

“No, no, not like that.” Four-Eyes thought about it, rubbing his chin. “Be rough, but affectionate. Be like… like a tsundere! But _don’t hit anyone_.”

Katsuki dropped his head in his hands. He really wished that he didn’t know what a tsundere was. Really wished that he didn’t just understand now what was being asked of him.

So, his first ‘real’ clients showed up, and Katsuki put on his best tsundere act. Afterall, as mortified as he was, he was never one to back down from anything. He did all the nice hosting things like show the girls to their seats, pour the tea for them, let them blabber on about whatever it was that interested them.

But he also threw in a couple ‘you clumsy idiot’s and responded mostly with ‘ _hn_ ’ or ‘ _tch_.’

And it… worked? The girls giggled and blushed and totally fell for it.

Katsuki was caught between pride over his own acting skills, and absolute horror over what he just created. Because honestly, it just got worse from there.

Days rolled by. Katsuki still spent most of his time as errand boy for the club, and all that annoyingly went with such a role. President was still an ass. Katsuki had to haggle for proper homework time.

And, of course, for an hour every afternoon, he entertained clients. There was a long damn list of requests every time.

Fortunately, VP Four-Eyes seemed to be sympathetic to Katsuki’s antisocial ways, and so vetted only a couple girls each day. If any of the other hosts did that, it would have caused a riot. When it came to Katsuki, however, girls _wanted_ a challenge.

(One time, he had even overheard a couple girls in the hallway whispering about who would be the first to break down ‘poor Bakugou-kun’s walls,’ and get to know his real soft side. He nearly spit his lunch out into the nearest trash can upon hearing that. Like hell he’d let these random ass girls into his personal business. Fuck that!

And he _didn’t have a fucking soft side_!!!)

It honestly didn’t make a bit of sense to Katsuki. He had no idea why girls would want to resort to clamoring and competing for even a bit of his attention. How was that even healthy for them? Especially when those like Four-Eyes or Ninja Man would treat any of these girls like queens.

Undeniably, these surge in requests were good for business; but it pissed Katsuki off. He didn’t even like most of these girls in the first place. He had no fucking clue what to do when they showed up with homemade cookies or some shit. He knew they were trying to prove themselves ‘worthy’ of him or whatever, but he didn’t like playing that game. In his mind, if he liked someone, he liked them, and if he didn’t, then that person would sure as fuck know that. He hated this ‘do I or do I not like you?’ carousal ride that seemed to excite his clients so much.

He did this style for no more than a week, before he just lost it.  

“Oi, prez! I fucking quit at this hosting thing!” He yelled out, the second all the guests were gone for the day.

When fucking Half’n’half didn’t respond, Katsuki stomped over to where the President and Vice President were looking over the numbers for the day. Half’n’half frowned at Katsuki for the interruption. The other hosts paused what they were doing to hover in concern and curiosity.

“Hey! Remember that protective service or whatever you said I could spearhead? I want to do that instead of entertaining guests. This gig is shit.”

The president sighed. “Yes, I remember. But no, you can’t substitute positions.”

“Like hell I can’t! I want to do what I’m good at.” He said this punching into his palm, emphasizing his point.

President Bastard Face barely acknowledged this. He looked back down at the ledger book open between him and the vice president.

“I don’t think you can brag about your fighting prowess if you can’t even stand your ground against me.”

“Oi, oi, oi,” Katsuki fumed. Behind him, Shitty Hair jumped forward, closer to them. “You better fucking watch that mouth! I’ll split your lip if you keep up this shit!”

“Unless,” the president continued, following a line of numbers, unperturbed, “the skill you’re referring to is your ability to bark like a small dog.”

This time Shitty Hair had to grab Katsuki to restrain him. Which was probably for the best. Katsuki was already imagining the ways he could string Half’n’half up and use him as a glorified punching bag.

Katsuki shoved Shitty Hair off – which was a little harder than anticipated cause Shitty Hair had some beef on him. But fuck off with that restraint. Katsuki could do this. He could be calm and rational. He addressed Four-Eyes, who he believed to be a little more malleable than the president. Which really said a fucking lot, since Four-Eyes was so fucking stiff that he’d give a brick wall some hard competition.

“Okay, but consider this: girls are really damned entertained when they don’t have to worry about some bozo panting over her shoulder. I could provide this service as, I don’t know, a perk… or advertisement for this club. Like, hey, these guys aren’t the forgotten used douchebags of society.” Katsuki’s eyes slid back over to the president. “Or at least, most of these guys.”

Half’n’half actually glanced up at that. “I’ll take that into consideration. We’ll talk more about this in the morning.”

“I want to talk about it now.”

“Tomorrow.”

“Argh! You are the worst, you know that?”

“I’m not the one who broke club property.”

“Are you club property cause I’m gonna break you.” Katsuki brandished another fist. Shitty Hair jumped in yet again.

“Ooohhhhkaaaayyy!!! Tomorrow morning it is, then!” Shitty Hair took hold of Katsuki’s shoulder to guide him over to the door. “We’ll be here bright and early!”

He then proceeded to push Katsuki out the door, the blond cursing all the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry but writing asshole todoroki is life. banter between him and bakublast comes far too easy. 
> 
> also i promise bakubowl is coming, there's just some dumb _plot_ that i gotta set up first!


	7. Whoever Invented PR Has A Death Wish

Katsuki normally didn’t show up early to the club room. Nevermind the fact that he was always one of the first kids on campus. He usually liked to take his sweet time, whether with school work or running a couple laps around the neglected sports track, before resorting to joining the rest of the Pish Posh club.

Most mornings, he got there just to check in before homeroom. Barely acknowledged the discussion over whatever themes the boys were brainstorming for that day. He would deal with whatever dog work they wanted out of him either during lunch hour or right after class.

Today was different. Katsuki showed up early enough that he got there around the time the other boys were sleepily shuffling in. He was ready to get down to business - he was already impatient that he had to wait a whole night already.

He quickly figured out why Half’n’half had procrastinated. It turned out that the president went ahead and invited a third party. There was a non-club member in the room, sitting at a table with Half’n’half, sipping coffee. She stood up when Katsuki entered the room.

It was that Heiress Chick.

There was something about her today that was different than before. Normally she was all… bubbly, or blushy, or whatever it was that girls thought made them look cute. Today, she stood straight, her eyes sharp and focused. Her entire manner was right down to business.

It was honestly a better look on her.

“Good morning, Bakugou-kun.” The girl started out with. “Todoroki-kun invited me to help you establish your protective service idea.”

He grunted in acknowledgment. Honestly, he figured as much the second he saw her. She continued.

“Todoroki-kun and I have been discussing more of your idea, and I think it could be a great service. Of course, most of us girls feel safe on this campus – save for the unfortunate anomalies. If you’d be so inclined, you could provide an escort service for Ouran girls when they are not on campus. That way, you’d be fulfilling the host requirements, while still doing the type of work you’d prefer to do.”

Katsuki blinked. He was not expecting a wall of speech right in the morning. But, hey, he could work with this. And he hadn’t thought of that. An escort service? Yeah, he could do that.

“Alright, so girls would request this service, the same way they request a host?” He asked, slinging his bag down on a chair.

“Correct. But for now, I believe it would be beneficial if you did patrols. Around the school, at the very least.”

“Patrols to hunt shits down. Cool, cool, I can get with that.”

She sighed and shook her head. “No, patrols to boost your image.”

Katsuki balked. “My image? I ain’t here to win any beauty pageants. Not like this lot.” He waved at the rest of the club, who had now sat around to watch Pikachu play something on his Switch. Even slumped over and dead tired in the morning, they all still managed to look flawless. Whatever beauty products they used probably cost an entire commoner’s monthly salary.

Miss Heiress frowned. “No, boost the image of you as someone who is trustworthy, reliable. Someone girls know about and can go to if they need your help.”

Katsuki groaned and looked to the ceiling. He hated PR crap. Could he just skip to the part where he punched someone in the face?

“And to ensure your success, I shall join you on the first few patrols.”

His head flopped back down to look back at her. “You? Why?”

She brushed her hair back. “Well, no offense intended, Bakugou-kun, but you’re a boy. You don’t know how to recognize the type of behavior that girls find unsettling.”

Well, he had an _idea_. But she had a point.

“Fine, then.” He said. “Just as long as we start this… whatever it is… _today_.”

“Right, right. Todoroki-kun warned me of your impatience.”

“I’m sure the bastard has lots to say about me.”

Her mouth twitched in almost amusement. “Would you like to make the first patrol before homeroom?”

Katsuki could really learn to like this chick. She got him. Well, more than that, she just seemed to have more than the rationed two brain cells everyone else on this campus got.

“Hell yeah. Let’s go.”

Once the heiress finished her coffee, the two set out. They had to walk around a bit until the rest of the student body started to arrive. (Bunch of lazy motherfuckers, the kids in his tax bracket.) So not much PR got done in that time period.

But, hey, at least it meant that Katsuki’s grumpy face blended in with all the caffeine deprived souls around him.

About ten minutes or so before homeroom, the campus had finally filled up.

Miss Heiress – although Katsuki was starting to think that she’d make a killer CEO in her own right – started to direct Katsuki in how to school his features, in how to greet all the girls in a polite and non-threatening way.  

It was just as damn tedious as he expected. He gritted his teeth throughout the whole experience. If Katsuki had to do this shit with anyone less competent than CEO Ponytail, he probably would have had an aneurysm.

Getting to homeroom was a fucking relief. But at the same time, he didn’t refuse her offer to do another patrol during lunch hour. He knew that if he really wanted this protective service to work out, he’d have to buckle down and go through with this shit first.

Anything to get out of hosting a bunch of girls trying to be his ‘special someone’ with cookie bribes.

So Katsuki let CEO Ponytail walk him around campus a few times the next couple days. He said his P’s and Q’s, learned twenty hundred different ways a guy’s body language could come off as threatening, and let even more girls fawn over him. Finally, finally, CEO Ponytail decided that he passed the test.

Katsuki could now carry out this service all on his own. Look out creeps, Katsuki was ready to take on the whole fucking world now.


	8. When Broccoli Attend School

Those patrols turned out to be the best damn opportunity Katsuki had ever received since joining this reverse-harem wannabe group. Business for the protective service came in, and it came in fast.

Sure, most of the first few clients were girls that had already been requesting Katsuki as a host, and thus he had to deal with that. But many others were either shy, easily frightened girls who found Katsuki's scary demeanor strangely comforting, or girls whose parents weren't fans of them going off alone anywhere, and really just had Katsuki _there_ to get their parents to shut up. Neither of those types of girls had any interest in 'breaking down poor Bakugou-kun's walls' or having him act as anything but himself. Which was, obviously, a fucking relief.

Katsuki walked local girls home, to nearby amenities like restaurants, or even through a public park a street down from campus. Easy routines. He and the girls often rarely chatted. And more people started talking about how chivalrous he was, rather than what a bad boy he was. 

And the best part? Since Katsuki was so busy bringing money in this way, most afternoons, he wasn't possibly available to play host.  

His routine became thus: check in with the host club before homeroom, maybe do a chore or two if President Two-Faced was in an asshole mood, and then go to classes. Come back to the music room for lunch hour - he still wasn't in the mood to deal with the public eye of the damn dining hall - and then finish classes. Check back in with the host club, help them set up a theme if necessary, then meet up with whatever girl(s) requested his protection that afternoon. 

But then, one afternoon, Katsuki had swung by the room just to find out who'd he be escorting that day. He intended to be in and out, like usual. He came to find the club members all in a buzz. Pikachu and Shitty Hair were excitedly babbling back and forth to each other, while Sparkles was panicking about, looking for some particular hair spray of his. Four-Eyes was scrutinizing every single detail of the club room, right down to how the fucking table doilies were positioned.

Honestly, it wasn’t unusual for these guys to be so energetic, but today it was almost excessive.

Katsuki tried to just ask for the client list from Four-Eyes, but the man was on a mission and only muttered out a 'there are different circumstances today' before gasping over a wilting flower arrangement. 

“Oi, what’s got all your panties in a twist?” Katsuki asked, plopping down in one of the chairs. If he was gonna have to wait, he wasn't gonna stand around and look available to do any shit. 

“The News Club is going to be doing interviews today, man!” Shitty Hair answered. “Your guard dog service is getting so much attention, that they want to do a segment on it.”

Katsuki crossed his leg over and leaned back in the chair. “Since when is it getting called the guard dog service?”

Pikachu shrugged. “That’s just what Todoroki’s been calling it.”

Katsuki scowled and glanced over at the president. Half’n’half was now stoically holding a bundle of flowers as Four-Eyes redid some of the arrangements. Katsuki felt a little validated that someone didn't seem all that obsessed over a fucking school newspaper. 

“Well, I ain’t gonna call it that.” He then raised his voice. “And if it gets published under that name, then the Prez is gonna have to sleep with one eye open.”

From across the room, deadpan, “Noted.”

Katsuki huffed and then looked back to his companions. “Alright, so the school’s newspaper club is gonna publish an article about us? How is that a big deal?”

“Not the _newspaper_ club. The _News_ Club. Ouran’s News Club did away with paper printing awhile back, for, like, environmental concerns. Or something like that.” Pikachu answered, also sitting down at the table. Shitty Hair sat down with them.

“Yeah, and now they have this really popular YouTube channel, Podcast, Instagram…” Shitty Hair leaned in on the table, grinning. “Basically, if they do a segment on anything, the whole country knows about it.”

“More like the whole world.” Pikachu pointed out. “I think they’ve got a really nice following in France and America.”

“Which is _why_ ,” the boys glanced up to see that Sparkles had gravitated towards their table, “I have to look my absolute best! My adoring _fans_ _Français_ are watching!”

“Does he actually–” Katsuki pointed.

“Yeah.” Shitty Hair said, lowering his voice. “He’s got an actual following in France. People call him Tamaki Senpai’s secret love child.”

Right. Katsuki still wasn’t entirely sure who this Tamaki guy was, and now he wasn’t sure if he ever wanted to know.

"Uh huh." Katsuki said. And then a realization dawned on him. "Wait... does this mean I have to stick around for these interviews?"

Only at that moment did Four-Eyes seem to acknowledge that Katsuki was there. The vice president jolted up from where he was carefully arranging flowers so that they were evenly distributed in the vase - or some shit like that - and then rushed over to the corner of the room where he kept his laptop. 

"Right, right, right," Four-Eyes said, coming back over to Katsuki, laptop in hand. "Today you will be hosting."

"Ugh. You're kidding me, right?"

"It's so that we were able to invite some of your new regulars to be interviewed as well." 

Oh, great. Hosting _and_ entertaining little wannabe actresses. 

"Wouldn't it make more sense to do on-street interviews? Why does the whole damn club have to be involved?" Katsuki argued. 

Four-Eyes glanced up at him. "It is a service provided by the Host Club, in name. We want to show that as a club we are versatile in the services we offer. It is important to show that we are balanced, capable. That we can handle the budgets of more than one - "

Katsuki rolled his eyes and turned around to tune Four-Eyes out. TL;DL, he was stuck here.

Pikachu was smirking at Katsuki, so Katsuki flipped him off. 

At that point, there wasn’t much else to do besides wait for open club hours, when the News Club would show up and do their interviews. Katsuki didn’t bother gussying up his appearance or some shit like that. He was aware that there would be quite a bit of attention on him. And that was fine. He just wasn’t going to be a dancing monkey about it.

When the News Club arrived, Katsuki was with a couple of his clients. He was sitting on one of the couches, facing away from the club door. The girls noticed the news crew enter, and got all in a tizzy about it.

Katsuki heard the president and vice president greet the news crew, but didn’t bother looking behind himself. Even when he heard the president refer to him and where he sat.

Katsuki had no reason at all to make a fuss over this. Until, like the slap of an unexpected memory, he heard from behind him:

“Kacchan?”

He would know that voice anywhere. It didn’t matter how many years it had been since he last heard it, or that it wasn't as squeaky as it was in childhood.

Katsuki whirled around in his seat and found himself looking dead in the eye of one dumb, freckled face.

“ _Deku_?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ha ha! I did it! I introduced Midoriya! Now the real fun of the story begins, hee hee. >:)
> 
> btw, TL;DL - too long; didn't listen. a mood


	9. The First Rule of Fight Club...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, reading the comments to last chapter: ah, good, I am so happy that ya'll enjoyed the surprise 
> 
> Just wait. There's more to come. >:) >:)

A sort of quiet fell over those around him. The girls stopped fussing with their hair or trying to catch the focus of the camera.

Deku was just standing there in all his awkward glory. Wearing an Ouran uniform. Hanging with the rest of the news bunch. Holding a hand-held camcorder. His eyes all lit up like it was his fucking birthday or something.

Meanwhile, Katsuki was doing his best to smush down a little bouncy feeling in his chest.

“Kacchan, I thought… but I wasn’t sure… it is you!”

A hundred more appropriate responses flew through Katsuki’s head, but what came out of his mouth was, “Since when do you go here?!”

Deku winced slightly at that, but his smile didn’t disappear. “Since the beginning of this year.”

“I thought you were being homeschooled.” Katsuki jumped up from his seat, to stand in front of Deku. “What the hell are you doing, you know,” he gestured vaguely, “out in public?”

Somehow Katsuki remembering that little tidbit about Deku’s schooling only had him beaming brighter. That was not Katsuki’s intention. If anything, Katsuki was getting pissed. The last time he had seen Deku… the last time… well, the nerd was not fit to ever show his face outdoors. Much less attend school.

But now, he was just here. In Katsuki’s space. Acting like he didn’t have a care in the world.

Katsuki really fucking hated it when Deku wore that dumb carefree smile.

“Forget it. I’m not doing any fucking interviews if it’s you.” Katsuki waved his hand dismissively.

This time, Deku’s smile did fall.

“Kacchan…”

“Go home, Deku.” Katsuki said, turning away.

Tension fell over them like a blanket. Katsuki’s heart felt like it was going a mile a minute. There were so many fucking emotions scattered across his entire being that he couldn’t interpret anything more than blind rage.

This wasn’t right. This wasn’t okay. The universe had to be playing some cruel joke on him.

He overheard a girl, one who was presumedly also from the News Club, ask Deku if everything was okay. Katsuki barely listened to the response. His head was just swimming in white noise, his body tense as if someone had challenged him to a fight, but they weren’t striking. Just standing there. Taunting him.

This wasn’t okay, this wasn’t okay, this wasn’t okay –

“ – interview?”

“Huh?” Katsuki looked up to find a girl staring at him, camcorder in her hand. She wasn’t one of the clients, or anyone Katsuki had particularly noticed before.

Well, given that he hadn’t seen Deku at this school in the near month he’d been here, Katsuki hadn’t been paying attention at all to his classmates.

She had short brown hair that framed an impossibly round, soft face. Like, chipmunk cheeks. With blush. Except her eyes had this uncharacteristic intensity, relative to the rest of her face. Like she had already decided that Katsuki was on her watch list.

“Would you accept it if I did the interview?” She asked again.

He blinked, absorbing both her almost hostile stare and her question. He wasn’t used to girls looking at him this way.

“Yeah, sure, whatever.” He finally said, when he found his voice.

Round-Face nodded and then gestured to an empty table near a good light source. The two sat down. He waited as she fiddled with her camcorder, and pulled out a notepad, where she had some questions written down.

Katsuki stared out the window as she did this. He tried to ignore the sound of Deku’s voice, somewhere off in the room, chatting with the Prez and VP. Didn’t want to even look in the nerd’s direction. The VP was probably apologizing on Katsuki’s behalf. Whatever. Just as long as Katsuki wasn’t forced to apologize. _He_ didn’t do anything wrong. It was that damned nerd that should have known better than to –

“ – for this service?”

Damnit, Round-Face had asked him another question and he didn’t hear.

“Huh?”

She frowned, camera recording him, and asked again. “What was the initial idea for this service?”

Katsuki sighed and recounted the tale about helping CEO Ponytail with her creep situation, and then he went into the whole ‘I’ve got better talents to offer the club than hosting’ spiel. Round-Face asked standard questions off of that, and he answered. Her questions were all polite, professional. And it was weird as fuck to hear a bouncy, sweet voice come out of her mouth, while she kept those steely eyes on him. The camera was pointed at him. The audience wouldn’t know her expression.

She asked about how girls reviewed the service, how their parents reviewed the service. Generally positive, from what Katsuki knew. Parents loved knowing that their precious princesses were safe from harm.

Near the end, she thanked him for answering all the questions. But that camera didn’t turn off. She picked up her notepad and glanced up at Katsuki over it.

“There have been some critiques about the service that it is a bit too backwards, traditional. Many women these days don’t feel like they should have to be escorted around. How would you respond to those critiques?”

Katsuki balked a little. He wasn’t expecting a challenge. But something eager bubbled up in him. Nothing more fun than a fight.

“Screw that. I’m not _forcing_ anyone. Like I explained earlier in this stinking interview, this service works off of requests. If feminists or whoever are gonna criticize anyone, it should be all the parents out there _making_ their daughters request my protection. I’m just doing what I’m getting paid to do.”

Which was a slight lie. Katsuki wasn’t actually the one getting paid.

Round-Face nodded, lowering her notepad. So, they were going off script. “Right, but this service was your idea to start with. Wouldn’t that suggest that you believed girls so incapable of looking after themselves, that you had to step in and do it for them? For profit, no less?”

Katsuki leaned in, getting a little annoyed. “I told you, didn’t I? The idea was from girls who wanted my protection to start with. If girls want protection, the hell is wrong with that? And what’s with that snide comment about ‘for profit?’ Look around you, Sweet-Cheeks. Money ain’t an issue here.”

Her mouth popped open in offense at the ‘Sweet-Cheeks’ line. Her voice wavered from its former sweetness. “You just said there are girls who are only requesting you because their parents demand it. That doesn’t sound like they actually want protection.”

“That doesn’t sound like a question, Miss Journalist.” He smirked. He was getting under her skin now. That intensity in her eyes was blooming across the rest of her expression. Now he was really itching for an actual fight with her.

“Alright then, my question is… what would you propose as a solution for girls who feel unsafe, but don’t necessarily want a man to step in and do everything for them?”

“Fuck it. Tell them to take a martial art.”

She nodded. And then she actually wrapped up the interview there. Thanked him again. Turned off the camera. So soon? Katsuki was just getting started here.

He started to stand up, irritated. He expected more out of this girl.

“Wait. One more question. Off the record.”

He turned to look at her, brow raised.

“What if parents disprove of a girl learning how to fight?”

A grin spread across his face. Now they were talking. “That’s what underground fight clubs are for, Sweet-Cheeks.”

Katsuki really, really hoped that her responding smile meant that she’d be the first person to sign up for such a club. This girl didn’t belong in a pretty dress, behind a camera. That kind of ferocity in her eyes belonged in a ring.  

And he wanted to win this fight for real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **the roundness is respectable**
> 
>  
> 
> (did i have too much fun writing that interview, cause my otp is kacchako? maybe.)
> 
> And yes, I will develop upon Bakugou and Midoriya's past. I am excited to do so~


	10. the has been and what ifs

_“I don’t like being a girl.”_

_“Huh? What do you mean?” Izuku looked up from where he was sketching clumsy lines in the damp clay of the riverbed._

_Katsuki twirled a jagged rock he found around in his little hand. He had gotten a mud stain on his dress, right at the hem, even after his mother warned him not to go down to the river in his nice clothes. Now he and Izuku were just putting off when Katsuki had to go back home and inevitably be scolded by his mom._

_“It’s stupid. Being a girl.” Katsuki said. He chucked the rock into the water. “Ya hafta wear these dumb clothes, and be some nice, pretty princess. I hate it.”_

_“Oh.” Izuku frowned. “I didn’t know it was bad. Being a girl.”_

_It wasn’t supposed to be bad. Katsuki had seen the way all the other girls in his kindergarten class behaved. They loved being princesses. He had no idea what was wrong with him. He didn’t like being such an oddball out. The girl who wasn’t actually a girl. Something tugged at his chest, a need to fit in somewhere._

_“Ya know what? I think I wanna try being a boy.” He decided, picking up another rock._

_Izuku tilted his head at that. Confused but not put off. “How are you gonna do that?”_

_“I dunno. I’m just gonna.”_

_Izuku thought that over, and then nodded with a smile. “Well, if anyone can do it, you can, Kacchan. You can do anything.”_

 

 

_It had been about a week or so since Katsuki’s declaration, and even though only Izuku knew, something about being a boy just felt right. When the two played after school, Katsuki was a samurai, not a lord's daughter. When they talked about the kids in their class, the two included Katsuki as one of the boys._

_It felt really good. Like Katsuki had learned something about himself that he never expected he would, but couldn’t imagine life without knowing._

_Izuku was Katsuki’s tutor in all things ‘boy.’_

_“What do boys do?” Katsuki asked one afternoon. “Like, what do they do in their free time that’s different from girls?”_

_Izuku thought real hard over what all his fellow boys did on a daily basis. “Well… boys like superheroes. But you already like superheroes, Kacchan. And boys are good at sports. And… boys… boys are really tough. I don’t think men cry. Not like women do.”_

_Katsuki laughed at that. “But you cry all the time.”_

_Izuku shifted uncomfortably at that. “I’m… I’m working on it. I can be a tough man one day.”_

_“Are you kidding me? I think I’m better at being a boy than you are.” Katsuki poked hard at Izuku’s arm. Just proving his point, Izuku gasped and teared up at the jab._

_Katsuki really liked being good at stuff. He never quite realized until now that he could be really good at being a boy. Like, better than anyone else at it. Especially Izuku, who wasn’t good at sports or being tough, or anything._

_Was Izuku good at anything?_

 

 

_A few years later, Katsuki learned how to read kanji, and Izuku got landed with the nickname Deku._

 

_Deku never stopped supporting Katsuki. Deku tried to fight too many of Katsuki’s battles. Deku got called Katsuki’s boyfriend way too many times, for sticking up for him so often. Katsuki started to resent him._

_Katsuki resented the fact that the only person he ever felt like he could be completely himself around was such an obnoxious wuss. Resented the fact that the person who admired him the most was also constantly calling Katsuki out for ‘bad’ behavior. He resented the fact that this helpless nerd so often insisted that one day he even be half as cool as Katsuki._

_Sometimes Deku was the only person Katsuki wanted to see. Sometimes he just really wished Deku would **go away** , and **never** come back. _

 

 

_It started out as a little cough and a persistent sweat. Deku’s mom wanted to keep him home to ride out the cold, but Deku – boisterous, unstoppable – insisted that he was fit enough to go to school. The next couple days he slowed down Katsuki and his friends in gym and at the playground. He always had to stop to catch his breath and cough that damn little cough._

_“Just go home, if you’re sick!” Katsuki snapped at Deku for not the first time._

_But Deku always shook his head, and despite how clammy and haggard he appeared, took a deep gulp of air, and insisted on running with the rest of them._

_“If you get the rest of us sick, I’m gonna beat you up!” Katsuki threatened._

_Deku didn’t get anyone else sick. His cough wasn’t something contagious. And one day, in gym class, he couldn’t catch his breath._

_At first Katsuki was mad. Deku ruined everything. They were having a real good game of baseball when suddenly Deku was causing a fuss in the outfield._

_And then Deku’s face started to pale. And then the little boy fell to the ground._

_Katsuki wasn’t mad anymore. He was downright furious. He had never been so shocked and afraid before, and it made him mad as hell._

_He **told** that damn little nerd to stay at home! And now look at him! Delirious and struggling for breath, on the ground, as the teacher desperately tried to keep the rest of the kids from crowding. _

_The paramedics showed up. Deku was taken to the hospital. Katsuki thought that would the end of it. Maybe now the nerd would learn his lesson and stay home long enough to get better. Served him right for being so stubborn._

_Deku wasn’t in school for the next couple days._

_Katsuki told himself repeatedly how fucking happy he was that he didn’t have to wait for that damn brat at recess anymore._

 

 

_‘It’ll be fine,’ all the boys insisted. It had been months since Deku’s last health scare. He was on medication now and cleared to be active again._

_(Even though he was still as thin as a stick and had coughing fits every now and again.)_

_The boys had heard about a rock formation deep in the woods that had fool’s gold. They all wanted to go on an adventure. Katsuki thought it would be a horrible idea to invite Deku along on such a long journey. But Deku had practically begged for an invitation. And then when Katsuki finally gave in, Deku had smiled the widest, brightest grin ever._

_Katsuki learned to hate that grin for years to come._

_On their trek, Deku never bothered to tell anyone when he wasn’t feeling well. He disguised his wheezes, and just kept smiling that damn smile._

_They were far out in the woods when Deku collapsed. Katsuki screamed and panicked, but he had no idea what to do about the fact that the nerd’s face was turning blue._

_Katsuki scooped Deku onto his back and ran for their neighborhood. Katsuki had never run so fast in so far in his life. His little legs burned with the effort. He screamed and screamed until an adult heard and found him. When Deku was finally in the arms of the paramedics, Katsuki could barely move a muscle, could barely form a word from his tortured throat._

_They got help in time. But not without a cost. Deku’s health had taken such a nose dive from the incident that he had to leave school. He was soon too weak to even leave the house._

_Served him fucking right. It was his fucking fault for ignoring his health for so long._

_(Katsuki’s fault, a little voice insisted. Katsuki was the one who wished for this.)_

_No. Deku deserved this. The brat had it coming all along._

_Katsuki never visited Deku. He couldn’t stand the thought of ever seeing that damned smile on such a weak face ever again._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .... _whew_  
>  Got this intense chapter out of the way. I had already decided on Bakugou and Midoriya's backstory early on in writing this fic, so I wrote the outline for this chapter awhile back. Just had to fiddle with it a bit. Some notes:
> 
> 1\. I know that some authors will write pre-transition trans!Bakugou with she/her pronouns and deadname, but I personally felt uncomfortable doing so. Hopefully it wasn't confusing to read. 
> 
> 2\. In this fic, Midoriya has cystic fibrosis - a genetic and degenerative disease that causes problems in the lungs and digestive track. He had to be homeschooled because of repeated lung infections.  
> However, I promise that for the sake of this fic, Midoriya's case _is not_ fatal. Midoriya's health does improve and he does get stronger. There are people with CF who can live past the expected lifespan, including athletes. Staying active is actually a great way to reduce symptoms of CF!  
> His backstory on how he got into Ouran will be expanded upon later in the story. If you're guessing 'All Might' is involved in some way, you're probably right, lol.


	11. F*ck Anger Management; Fighting Is Therapeutic

Katsuki woke up in a cold sweat.

His mind swirled with the images and throat-constricting fear of his sub-conscious memories. Watching Deku collapse. Carrying him on his back. Not knowing if he’d make it in time.

 _Feeling like it was his fault_.

He didn’t want anything to be his fault! He didn’t mean anything bad by wanting Deku to go away! He just wanted some peace and quiet, a break from the confusing thoughts and feelings he had every time he had to interact with his childhood friend.

Fuck it. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Katsuki had done a great fucking job of shoving any and all thought of that _damn fucking nerd_ out of his mind, until the green-haired freckled disaster just decided to show up out of nowhere…!

Theoretically, Katsuki’s vocal cords were fine, but somehow it just felt like his throat was just as raw as it got all those years ago. Screaming for help.

Fuck. _Fuck_.  

With breathing as strained as it was, he couldn’t imagine squeezing himself into a binder that day. He opted for a sports bra instead. Logically, he knew that his chest wasn’t big enough to out him, but just the whole situation left him even more on edge.

He didn’t say anything to his parents or the house staff that morning. It concerned his dad, who was used to how vocal Katsuki normally was. Katsuki just barely escaped a parental pep talk.

Katsuki managed enough words to call for the driver and get to school.

But on campus it was just worse. Katsuki kept expecting that nerd to just pop up from around a corner any second. The only thing he could think of was to head to the gym building. Even if Deku was well enough to go to school, there was no way he’d be well enough to exercise.

Katsuki got out on the track and he ran and ran and ran until his legs screamed louder than his thoughts.

He missed his morning check-in with the host club, his morning patrol, and just barely made it in time to homeroom. If his classmates were put off by his disheveled appearance, he didn’t care.

When he slipped into the music room for lunch hour, the president was waiting for him, arms crossed.

“Where were you this morning?” The president demanded. No one else was in the room. All likely in the dining hall.

Katsuki gritted his teeth. Half’n’half had no fucking right to act like some disappointed parent. Like Katsuki was a child who snuck in past curfew or some shit. Katsuki ignored him and stomped over to the corner where he normally ate his lunch.

“And on top of that, what was with that behavior towards the News Club yesterday?” Half’n’half followed Katsuki. “You do know I could strip you of privileges in this club for that type of behavior.”

Tears pricked at Katsuki’s eyes. He did not want to fucking think of that… don’t bring it up, don’t say –

“Midoriya wouldn’t say what happened, but if you – ”

“SHUT UP.” Katsuki snapped. “DON’T FUCKING TALK TO ME ABOUT THAT NERD. I’LL KILL YOU.”

Half’n’half let out a shocked gasp.

“What is _with_ you?”

Katsuki whirled around to face him. Probably showing off the wonder of his tear-stricken face and trembling hands. The bastard’s eyes widened.

“Say another fucking word and I’ll rip your throat out.” Katsuki gritted out through wavering of his chin and voice. Something about the panic Katsuki was shaking with must have shown through. The disappointment in Half’n’half vanished.

The president steeled his expression. “I’m not going to fight you.”

Katsuki laughed, wet and humorless. “Why, cause you think you’re gonna beat me again?”

“No. Because I don’t think fighting is going to help you.”

“The fuck do you know about what’s good for me?”

Half’n’half stared long and hard at Katsuki, as if he could deduce exactly how to respond to this situation if he just eyeballed him long enough. Finally, Half’n’half sighed and rubbed at his forehead.

“After classes. The gymnasium basement. If you still need to blow off steam.”

Katsuki swallowed. Let out a rough exhale. “Better be there.”

Then he turned back around and stalked to his lunch corner. Half’n’half didn’t say another word. Just quietly left the room and let Katsuki be for the rest of the day.

Fortunately, the bastard came through on his offer.

Katsuki found the club president waiting for him in the basement underneath the basketball court. Basketball season had already ended, so the only people who used the court were a few kids who liked to work out some steam at the end of the day. For now, Katsuki couldn’t hear anyone else in the building.

“I told Iida that I had some business to attend to, so he isn’t expecting me back until club hours open.”

Katsuki nodded. That meant they had about half an hour or so to duck it out and then get cleaned up. Not that they needed that long for a single fight. A good match could be decided in minutes.

“Not scared I’m gonna mess up your pretty face?” Katsuki taunted. Stress to work out or not, Katsuki had been looking forward to a rematch for a long time now.

“If you land any hit at all on me, I’ll be impressed.”

Ugh. What a prick.

“Okay,” Katsuki said, getting into a fighting stance. “Now you’re pissing me off.”

Bastard-Face smirked with only a slight uptick of his lips. He also slipped into fighting stance. “I thought that was the point here.”

“I’m gonna make you eat your words.”

“You have to stop talking first.”

Oh, fuck it. Now the bastard was gonna get it! Katsuki let out a snarl and charged at him. Half’n’half maneuvered out of Katsuki first strike and then checked him in the leg. Katsuki caught his balance quickly and came in at the bastard with his left fist.

Half’n’half blocked the hit, and Katsuki used that moment to ball his right hand and uppercut towards the bastard’s stomach. Half’n’half jabbed Katsuki’s punch back. Their arms knocked painfully at the force.

The bastard then threw a punch towards Katsuki’s face, and Katsuki ducked. He barreled into Half’n’half’s center, throwing them both to the ground. Half’n'half let out a grunt of pain upon hitting the concrete floor. But the shock of the fall didn’t inhibit him at all. He clocked Katsuki in the throat with his forearm.

In the moment that Katsuki choked in surprise, Half’n’half pushed up and pinned Katsuki to the floor.

The concrete was cold and hard on Katsuki’s back. The landing hurt like hell, and Katsuki’s eyes watered from the attack on his neck. Half’n’half had his wrists pinned down, but not his legs. Katsuki kneed Half’n’half upwards and then when given the space, kicked him square in the chest.

It got the bastard off of him. Katsuki scrambled up and got back into fighting stance, panting.

It thrilled him to see that Half’n’half was also panting.

“Ha! Looks like I did land a hit on you!” Katsuki grinned. He had spared the president’s pretty face, but that kick had to have hurt. It was a nice change in pace to get the president so disheveled.

But even more so, there was now an energy in Half’n’half’s expression that Katsuki had never seen before. His brows were pinched forward, darkening his eyes, and his teeth were gritted in an almost snarl. Cold rage emanated from his entire being.

The hell had Katsuki done to get the bastard this mad? he was about to wonder. Until he noticed. The rage in Half’n’half’s eyes wasn’t focused on Katsuki.

Ah, so Mr. Prim and Proper had some anger issues to resolve as well. Katsuki could get with that.

He charged forward again, reigniting the match.

The two fought in another couple clashes, before the exhaustion and aches caught up with them. Overall, the two didn’t fight any longer than five minutes or so. But every second had energized Katsuki and left him feeling a hell of a lot better than he did before.

They headed to the gym bathrooms. Katsuki hesitated though. He hated using these public showers at any time other than early morning, when other students were just arriving on campus – much less cleaning off from a sunrise workout.

Each shower was separated by its own clean stall, each stocked with all the essential body care products – since communal shower heads were too pedestrian. Yet just the anxiety over sharing the room space with anyone…

But then Half’n’half stopped at the door to the men’s showers. He checked inside, and upon seeing no one else using the facility, he turned back around to stand in front of the door.

“You go first.” He offered.

Katsuki’s eyes widened, realizing what Half’n’half intended. He was going to guard the door for Katsuki.

Katsuki swallowed at the lump of unexpected appreciation. “Thanks,” he muttered out, before heading inside.

Both boys cleaned up well. When they returned to the club room, no one was the wiser to the reason of their absence. Katsuki got his escort list from Four-Eyes, and then headed off, happy to get off campus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise this story won't stay angsty. Next chapter is going to be much more lighthearted!
> 
> But hey, if Ouran the show could get into angsty backstories and deep, meaningful connections between people, then I sure as hell will too. I'mma take this found family trope and run with it as far as I can.


	12. I Don't Flirt, I Talk About Comics Until You Ask Me Out

Look, Katsuki wasn’t afraid of anything. There were just things that he’d prefer not to do. And one of those things was running into Deku cause Katsuki had been wandering stupidly around campus.

As a result, he ended up spending all his non-class time in the music room.

And when that happened, he found himself getting to know his clubmates better. Which, normally, would have been a distasteful prospect. But, when he one day spotted Shitty-Hair reading something rather familiar, Katsuki sat down next to the redhead without really thinking.

“Oi, you read Pro Hero Comics?” Katsuki asked.

Pro Hero Comics had been around for a few decades. Originally the American style comic series was a niche thing, something that adorned the bookshelves of only the most dedicated otaku. The series was about a world where most of the population had superpowers, but only a select few were qualified to become professional superheroes.

The series had started getting more recognition from the public around the time Katsuki was a kid.

Shitty-Hair looked up from his copy of the most recent issue, with a surprised, happy grin. “Yeah! Do you?”

Katsuki shrugged. “There are worse things to read.”

He had every volume. Whatever.

“Bro, that’s so cool! I don’t meet a lot of people around here who are into Pro Hero.”

Katsuki made a face. Why the hell not? “It’s getting a movie deal though.”

Shitty-Hair nodded enthusiastically. “That’s what I say! Pro Hero is so popular now. I mean, have you seen all the Western fans?”

“Pff,” Katsuki leaned back in his seat. “I think Americans just like it ‘cause All Might’s finishing move is ‘United States Smash.’ Americans love patriotic shit like that.”

Shitty-Hair laughed. He closed the comic book and set it to the side, fully engaging in the conversation. “Man, I knew I liked you for a reason! Who’s your favorite hero?”

All Might, the main hero of the series. Katsuki had several posters in his room. (Even though his mom hated how it clashed with the decor.) “Whoever wins the fight.”

“Sooo… All Might, right?”

Katsuki glared. Shitty-Hair patted his shoulder – a risky choice. “It’s cool, man. I won’t go around telling people your nerdy secret.”

“Glad to know you have some self-preservation.”

“Thanks!”

Katsuki rolled his eyes to the ceiling. He sighed. “… so, what about you?”

“Huh?”

“Who’s your favorite?”

Shitty-Hair lit right up. “Red Riot! All the way!”

Katsuki blinked at that. Red Riot was from the earlier volumes. He didn’t show up much anymore in the newer issues, since not a lot of more recent fans to the series were as well acquainted with him. So, Shitty-Hair was that much of a fan? Shit, and to think that Katsuki could have been having conversations about anything other than roses and tea.

Instead of expressing that, Katsuki just eyed Shitty-Hair’s red spiked hair.

“Wow. Never would have guessed.”

Shitty-Hair chuckled and rubbed the back of his head. “Ah, that obvious, huh?”

Katsuki made a ‘little bit’ gesture with his pointer finger and thumb.

“Well, I just really like he always fights _through_ the fear, not against it, ya’know? None of that toxic masculinity garbage. And ‘cause he definitely drank respect women juice back before it was cool.”

Toxic masculinity? Respect women juice? The hell did that mean?  

“I think you’re reading too many women’s health magazines.”

“Don’t worry, I believe in you, bro. You got what it takes to be super manly.”

Katsuki scoffed. “I’m already manly, dimwit. I’m so manly, I punched my assigned gender in the face.”

Shitty-Hand had to clamp his hand over his mouth, he laughed so hard. And then with the other hand, he patted Katsuki on the shoulder again. Which Katsuki was all too aware of, but somehow not contemplating injury for. Damnit, when had he get this comfortable around these pretty boys? This music room was doing things to his head.  

“We gotta hang out more, seriously.” Shitty-Hair said, when he finally caught his breath. As if Katsuki didn’t spend practically his whole life with this club. “Oh! Are you going to Might Con this summer?”

As an initial reaction, Katsuki soured. Even though these Pro Hero conventions had been around since the 1980s, Katsuki had never been to one. Going by himself to a convention hall filled with otaku really didn’t sound like a great way to spend a weekend. He didn't want to deal with the crowds just to bid for limited merch. That's what the internet was for. It wasn’t like he couldn’t catch up with the panels on YouTube, anyways.

“C’mon,” Shitty-Hair begged. “You gotta! Haven’t you heard that Brightman Sensei is _finally_ gonna do a face reveal?”

Katsuki already knew that. Literally any fan of Pro Hero Comics knew about that. It was all the internet forums were talking about lately.

Brightman Sensei. The pen name of the mysterious mangaka of Pro Hero Comics. Some people said that Brightman couldn’t be one person. There were entire forums dedicated to pointing out the slightest differences in art style and writing themes throughout the series. Others pointed out that Brightman had to be really old at this point, if the mangaka were a single person.

And, okay, so maybe Katsuki had been wondering over this same shit since he first picked up an issue.

Katsuki let out a long sigh. “If you’re going…”

“Yeah! That’s the spirit!” Shitty-Hair held out a hand. “It’s a date, then?”

Ah. Is that what this was? Katsuki glanced at Shitty-Hair’s hand. Well, if it had to be anyone in this hoity-toity institution… He reached out and clasped the offered hand. “Yeah, sure, Shitty-Hair.”

“My name’s Kirishima!”

“That too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> superhero comics??? in _my_ Ouran fic??? it's more likely than you think
> 
> Pro Hero comics don't include the canon timeline of BNHA. The comics are currently in All Might's late Silver Age, so before the first All for One vs All Might fight.


	13. Why Do Cats Like Assholes?

Days passed from the News Club incident, and Katsuki was doing a damn good job of avoiding any unfortunate run-ins with Deku. He reveled in any escort job that took him well away from campus. Even if it meant watching over a trio of Ouran girls on their visit to a cat café.

The café in question wasn’t on their side of the tracks, so the girls wanted a ‘bodyguard,’ just in case. (In any case, what was the worst that could happen? Crazed cat attack?Geez.) Katsuki wasn’t thrilled with the nature of the request, but, hey, what were the chances he’d run into Deku in a random ass cat café?

Katsuki met the girls there. He stood at the entrance of the café as commoners gawked over the three well-dressed girls emerging from a black luxury vehicle. The girls even waved like little princesses to anyone they caught staring, flaunting their non-uniform designer clothes and accessories. 

They all went inside and sat down at a table as four. Katsuki pushed his chair back so that it didn’t look as obvious that he was associated with these people. He crossed his arms and leaned back, looking every bit the part an intimidating bodyguard.

The girls cooed and called over to every cat they saw, but only a couple felines approached the girls. Opposite that, a bunch of cats kept coming over to inspect Katsuki or rub up against his leg. He glared at each one.

“The hell you doin’ coming to me? It’s those girls that want you.” Katsuki grumbled at one calico, trying to nudge it away with his leg.

He heard a snort-chuckle from behind him.

“It just means they think you’d make a good friend, nya.”

Already ready to dislike this person for adding a fucking meow to the end of his sentence, Katsuki turned a glare on the guy behind him.

It was a guy in waiter uniform – complete with cat ears and a bubbly nametag that said ‘konnichi _nya_ , I’m Shinsou.’ Katsuki looked the waiter up and down. The guy had clearly seen better days of sleep and food, given his eyebags and scrawny form. Katsuki would have felt sorry for the bastard, having to work a crummy job like this and all, if it wasn’t for Eyebags’ shit-eating grin.

“Oh, really?” One of the girls jumped in, when Katsuki didn’t respond to Eyebags right away.

Eyebags took that as a cue to talk about cat language and shit like that. The girls ate all of it right up, and did their best to apply their new knowledge to make cat friends. The waiter smiled and encouraged them in all their giddy efforts.

Katsuki couldn’t get out of here fast enough. He was starting to think just being able to get away from campus wasn’t worth this request. And Eyebags’ little smirk every time the two made eye contact was just pissing him off. He should complain to management for the snippy, rude ass service.

At the end, Katsuki internally rejoiced as he watched those girls climb back in their shiny car. They offered to give him a lift back to campus, as a courtesy, but he refused.

He had never been to this shopping district before and felt like wandering around for a bit. At the very least he could stomp out some steam, and make himself feel better by side commenting on all the commoner shit around him. Katsuki spent an hour or so strolling about, judging all the clothes and other selections he saw in shop windows. When he felt a little better about his own situation in life, he called his family’s driver to come pick him up.

While waiting on the sidewalk, he overheard some shit going on in the alley next to him. Well, turns out the area did have enough danger to warrant those Ouran girls requesting a body guard. Who would've guessed?

Out of curiosity, Katsuki peeked down the alley to see what was up. From initial glance, he saw a group of guys – three or four – cornering another guy against the alley wall. Oh, goodie. A mugging.

Katsuki could easily intervene. Be considered a hero. Even if the thugs had a knife or something, Katsuki could handle a challenge. Besides, when was the last time he had an honest brawl? This was too good an opportunity to pass up. He rolled up his sleeves and turned to enter the alley.

But then when Katsuki looked again, he realized that he recognized the guy against the wall. Fucking suburb. It was Eyebags.

For a moment, Katsuki considered not helping the asshole furry-wannabe. And then in the next moment, one of the thugs shoved Eyebags harder into the wall.

Katsuki sighed. Eyebags would so fucking owe him for this.

Since the thugs didn’t see Katsuki coming, he had surprise to his advantage. He announced his presence by knocking the shit out of the thug closest to him.

The other cronies weren’t fans of this, and neither were they wussies. Katsuki grinned as they all converged on him.

But, alas, their fighting was so sloppy and all over the place. Hits were too wide, not enough force behind any offense. A _kindergartener_ could predict these moves. A shame. After that secret stress-relief match with Half’n’half, this fight was downright an insult to Katsuki’s capabilities.

He had the thugs running off soon enough.

Katsuki rolled his eyes at their retreating figures, and then turned to his damsel in distress. Maybe after seeing Katsuki beat the shit out of these bullies, Eyebags would have learned some respect.

But nope. Now Eyebags was just staring at Katsuki with a deadpan expression, save for one quirked brow. There was a bruise on his cheek.

“You always need to overcompensate like that?” Eyebags asked.

“Huh? I just saved your ass!”

“Yeah. And I didn’t ask you to.” Eyebags pushed himself up from against the wall, and bent down to pick up something. The fucking cat ears. He put those in a bag slung from his shoulder. “But thanks anyway, I guess. Saved me the trouble for at least one day.”

Wait. This was a daily issue? “The hell? Is this neighborhood actually that dangerous?”

Eyebags tilted his head at that, not quite understanding the question for a second. But then he understood, and turned to start walking off. “Nah. It’s just me they’re after.”

Katsuki fell in stride after him. “Just you?”

“Same shit, different day.” Eyebags said with a shrug.

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“And you’re a stranger who picks fights with other strangers in alleyways. I have no reason to answer your question.”

Katsuki exhaled through gritted teeth. “You’re an asshole, you know that, right?”

Eyebags glanced over at Katsuki, and that little infuriating smirk appeared again. “Like enjoys likes’ company.”

The two stopped at the mouth of the alleyway. The Bakugou family car was there waiting for Katsuki. Eyebags stopped suddenly, staring at the car. Katsuki only continued on to open the car door for himself.

“You know,” Eyebags said, slowly. “I was thinking about getting your contact info, and sending a little thank you gift… but I can’t think of anything you possibly couldn’t buy with pocket change.”  

Katsuki appraised the guy’s haggard appearance again. “Don’t bother. I’m sure whatever you buy will set you back a few meals.”

Without missing a beat, Eyebags flipped Katsuki off. “Thank you so much for your concern over my well-being. Your philanthropic ways inspire us all.”

Despite himself and how aggravating this guy was, Katsuki couldn’t help but to smirk at that. “How ‘bout you use employee benefits or some shit and treat me to a meal at your café? Then we’ll call it even.”

A grin spread across Eyebags’ face. Katsuki was certain it was supposed to be a happy grin, but there was a creepy edge to it. “Ah, yes, watching all of our cats climb all over you again would be an absolute delight.”

“Better enjoy it before you never see me again.” Katsuki said, getting into the car.

“Will do.” Eyebags said back with a short wave. “I always work weekends.”

Katsuki grunted in response and shut the car door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did i mention that i headcanon bakugou as a dog person whose gruff personality attracts cats like a magnet, much to his displeasure?
> 
>  
> 
> ~~and shinsou is totally a cat in this scenario~~


	14. 'Kacchan' is Having a Time, Okay?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the boys!! they interact!!

It was bound to happen. Katsuki was bound to run into Deku at some point.

He just didn’t expect to see Deku _off campus_.

Fortunately, it didn’t seem like Deku had noticed Katsuki yet. The two were at that park that Ouran girls liked to walk through, often requesting Katsuki to escort them.

Katsuki had just seen that mop of green hair through a tree line. The girls he was looking after were busy taking selfies of themselves in the scenery, so he felt fine enough with inching away to see just what the hell Deku was doing outside.

When Katsuki saw that Deku was in workout clothes, he nearly barreled through the trees right then and there.

What the _fuck_ was that weak little nerd doing exercising?

Deku was breathing heavily enough that it was obvious he had just been running or something. When Katsuki sneaked over to the trees to get a closer look, Deku was stretching. Deku had his arms stretched up in some yoga looking pose.

Just then someone joined Deku, jogging up to stand beside the nerd. It was an older man, who was so thin that a decent breeze could have knocked him over. His straw-colored hair was so messy and frayed, Katsuki half expected a bird to mistake it for a nest. Yet this man was also wearing workout clothes. It was like an exercise club for toothpicks.

“How many times do I have to tell you to stay with me, Midoriya-shounen?” The man asked, breathing deeply. “You don’t want to push yourself too hard.”

Deku finished his stretch and then offered an apologetic grin. “Sorry. I’m feeling really good today.”

“Yes, let’s keep it that way.”

Wait? This man was training Deku? They were jogging together? Who the hell was this guy and what right did he have to encourage Deku’s absolute masochistic thickheadedness?

Ah, fuck this spying shit. Katsuki stomped through the trees and leveled an accusatory finger at the two.

“What the fuck are you doing out here, Deku? And who the fuck are you?”

“Kacchan?!” Deku jumped from transitioning into a new stretch. He then let out a short cough. That only made Katsuki angrier.

“Are you trying to kill yourself, nerd?” Katsuki demanded.

“Ahh,” Deku put his hands up, as if he was under arrest. “The opposite, actually.”

The man was now looking between the two boys, one hand half raised in an uncertain decision to intervene.

Katsuki balked. Deku wasn’t trying to land himself in the hospital? That’s not what it looked like here! “The hell does that mean?”

“Just that exercise really helps with my Cystic Fibrosis.”

“… your what.”

Deku blinked at that, and bounced a little on his feet. Geez, Katsuki thought, even the nerd’s little mannerisms and tics hadn’t changed. Just as fidgety as always.

“Oh, right. I guess I wasn’t good at explaining it as a child. And it is a complicated word.” Deku rubbed at the back of his head. “It’s my health condition. You remember? It’s a genetic thing.”

Genetic? That whole cough thing? So, the nerd was born with it? It wasn’t some freak thing?

Unexpectedly, some part of Katsuki, that little panicked child in him that he never quite grew away from, felt comforted by this. Deku was born with this thing. Katsuki didn’t cause this. It wasn’t Katsuki’s fault, in all his bad wishes, that Deku got sick. No matter what, the nerd would have gotten sick.

The rest of Katsuki, however, was flipping the absolute fuck out. If it was genetic, then that meant there wasn’t a cure. Deku was always going to live like this? This was absolutely worse than a bad case of pneumonia, as Katsuki had probably convinced himself it was.

And yet here Deku was, as bright as ever, letting out an awkward chuckle in Katsuki’s silence.

Katsuki started to curl and uncurl his hands into fists, subconsciously.

Deku never had a reason to be as cheerful as he was. Yet here he was. Here he was.

“Ah,” Deku finally broke the silence. “I should probably introduce you two. Kacchan, this is Toshinori-san. Toshinori-san, this is Kacchan.”

“Pleased to meet you,” the nest haired man said, politely. Katsuki said nothing. He just kept flexing his hands in his pent-up energy. The man continued, “You must be the childhood friend Midoriya-shounen has told me so much about.”

This got Katsuki’s attention. He whipped a shocked glare on Deku. What the hell had the nerd said about him? Deku sweated – whether from the post-workout or nerves, Katsuki didn’t know or care.

Nest-Hair cleared his throat, likely sensing the tension. “I understand that you’re a very accomplished young man.”

Katsuki turned his head away. He felt his face warm.

Right. Deku wouldn’t pass up any chance to praise his precious friend ‘Kacchan.’

“I have… I’m on a job right now.” Katsuki muttered out, now remembering the Ouran girls. An out from this conversation.

“Oh, right!” Deku said, with a conversational smile. “I was wondering what you were doing here. So, the protective service is still going well?”

Just to be sure, Katsuki glanced over through the tree line. The girls hadn’t even seemed to notice that he was gone. Geez. How long did it take to take a fucking selfie?

He shoved his hands in his pockets. Yeah. Somehow the protective services were still preferable over hosting. “Keeps me from having to talk about fucking tea for an hour.”

Deku laughed. Much more freely than he should have for how awkward of a situation this was. “Yeah, I gathered as much from your interview with Uraraka. You know, our club had a fun time editing that video. Uraraka seemed to want to keep as much of it uncut, but our president said that – ”

He continued to ramble. Katsuki’s eye twitched. Okay, why was the nerd trying to make conversation? Katsuki _just_ said he had to leave.

“Whatever, I have to go.” Katsuki put out again, starting to back up.

“Ah,” Deku let out another small cough, self-consciously cutting his rambling off, “right.”

Katsuki tried not to tense up at that cough. The nerd said he was doing better. But since when could Katsuki trust Deku’s definition of ‘better?’ The nerd could probably break half the bones in his body and claim he was fine just ‘cause he had use of the non-broken limbs.

Nest-Hair man was still looking between the two of them. Not intervening. Not panicking over Deku’s state.

Katsuki glanced over at the girls again, who had looked up to finally notice his absence. He turned around to head back over to his job.

“See you in school, Kacchan!” Deku called out after him. 

…

Katsuki didn’t answer as he walked away. He didn’t want to get that nerd’s hopes up. Not when Katsuki avoided Deku for over a week.

When he got back to the girls, they had just posted their selfies on Instagram. He humored by at least glancing at the pictures when they asked for his opinion. With the scenery and filters, the selfies weren’t bad. Pointless and a shackle of dependency to society’s opinion. But whatever.

His mind was still on Deku.

There had been a healthy color to Deku’s face, Katsuki now just realized. A tan to his skin, a healthy flush to his face. Which meant that Deku had been spending a lot of time outside. That scrawny kid didn’t look as weak anymore.

So, did Deku actually mean it when he said he was doing better?

Katsuki had been fooled before. He didn’t know anymore. There was only one way to know for sure, and Katsuki really hated his own head for formulating the idea.

He would just have to see Deku in school.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: oh boy, i wonder how you say cystic fibrosis in japanese!  
> japanese: nouhouseisenishou (嚢胞性線維症)  
> me: what the fuck


	15. Damn Deku is a Force of Nature (Unfortunately)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, Bakugou has a lot of unhealthy emotions throughout this fic, and this chapter ain't an exception. I'll tell you that.

When Katsuki arrived on campus the following morning, he nearly went straight to the music room – as had become his new habit. But then he remembered that he wasn’t avoiding Deku now. He remembered that the nerd clearly couldn't be trusted to be left alone for longer than five minutes.

 _Was Deku trying to give his mom a heart attack?_ Katsuki wondered furiously. _What big idea did he have joining up with some nest haired stick and pushing his limits like that?_

Even worse, Katsuki had realized, when he found himself stuck staring at his ceiling at two in the morning, if Deku was doing better, then Deku would take that as encouragement to start doing more strenuous things! And then who even knew what Deku would throw himself after?! That brat had never known how to quit.

So, instead of submitting himself to the early morning whims of his clubmates – thank _god_ – Katsuki went about the campus. He wasn’t actively looking for Deku. As if. Katsuki couldn’t care enough to throw away that much energy.

But if he happened to run into Deku and stop the nerd from doing something stupid? Yeah, he could live with that.

Katsuki’s feet carried him to the main library on campus. It wasn’t a foreign place to him, as he had spent considerable time checking out books for reports and study. (Like hell was he going to fail a class if he had a giant hall of resources available to him.)

He roamed through the book stacks with a practiced ease of the place, when he overheard an urgent, familiar voice, which was raising itself over a group of giggling kids.

“Keep your voices down! I am pleased that you are spending your morning free time seeking out academic improvement, but please be quiet about it!”

Katsuki peeked around a bookshelf to see none other than the Vice Prez Four-Eyes chopping his arm at a trio of other students. President Half’n’half was standing right beside Four-Eyes. At the table, Katsuki’s eyes widened with irritated recognition, was Deku. He was sitting with that other journalist girl, Round-Face, and a dark green-haired froppy looking girl that Katsuki had never seen before.

The three were giggling over something, and certainly not taking Four-Eyes seriously. And, incredibly enough, when Deku let out a couple coughs between dumbass snorts, no one batted an eye at it. Everyone’s attention was on a giant, old looking book set out in front of them on the table.

“Iida,” Round-Face forced out between her giggles, her face a bright crimson, “you have got to see what we found in this art book!”

Four-Eyes glanced down, and then jolted back in horror. “That is hardly appropriate material! How could it be allowed in this school!”

“It _is_ historical art.” Half’n’half intoned. “So, it’s educational.”

“Pornographic images do not constitute as art! No matter how classically painted!” Four-Eyes argued back, only making the three at the table laugh harder. “Besides, Todoroki, you and I need to head to the club room. We have to check in with the other members.”

Katsuki didn’t stick around to hear Deku and his nerd brigade groan in disappointment. He headed off towards the music room, where he was going to act like he hadn’t just been eavesdropping in on Deku, of all people.

Deku and his friends. Since when did Deku have friends? Outside Katsuki at least.

And if they hadn’t reacted to him coughing, then that must mean they knew about his genetic condition. Which meant that he must have trusted them enough to have told them about it, and they trusted him enough to not fuss over him.

Ugh. Something unpleasant twisted its way through Katsuki’s chest. How could Katsuki have not known all these things? Deku leaving the house. Deku going to school. Deku exercising. Deku making friends. Deku just generally living his life like he hadn’t ding-dong ditched death several times as a kid!

For all the number of times little child Deku claimed that Katsuki was his hero, his inspiration, how did he just… get better at life? Without Katsuki’s help? _Without Katsuki even being there_?

Katsuki must have been out of his goddamn mind. He spent years trying to get Deku out of his head. Years trying not to let the memories surface when he was lying in bed at night. And then when Deku just showed up, Katsuki spent over a week trying to avoid the nerd.

And yet here he was. Standing outside the door to the News Club room.

Classes had just concluded, and technically Katsuki was on his afternoon campus patrol. The door to the News Club room was ajar, and Katsuki could hear and see the club members inside. He pushed the door further open and scanned the room. Finding that mop of green hair was easy enough. He was sitting with a laptop, back to the door, editing a video or some shit.

Katsuki ignored everyone when he walked into the room.

“Oi, Deku.”

Deku jumped a clear foot off his seat. Somehow the laptop didn’t take a dive and crash on the floor. He turned around; his mouth popped open in shock at seeing Katsuki there.

“Kacchan?”

“Are you working out with Nest-Hair again today?”

“Huh? Nest…” Deku’s brows furrowed a moment, before understanding dawned on him. “Oh, you mean Toshinori-san! Yes, I am. Once I’m done with some things here.”

“I’m going with you.”

Deku’s eyes turned into saucers. His expression fought between delighted surprise and absolute bewilderment. He then spluttered to respond, before getting any actual words out. “W-why? You don’t, you don’t have to, I mean…”

“Same park?”

“U-uh, yeah. Yeah. We, uh, we meet by center fountain.”

Katsuki gave a short nod of response and then turned on his heel, right out of the room.

He concluded his patrol, walked a couple girls home – fortunately it wasn’t a busy day on that front – and then changed into some workout clothes.

True to Deku’s word, Nest-Hair was there at the fountain, already decked out in his own workout gear. Katsuki absently wondered where the hell someone as impossibly tall and dangerously skinny as someone like Nest-Hair even bought his clothes.

“Ah, hello,” Nest-Hair said, when he saw Katsuki approach. He offered a polite smile. “Young Bakugou. Midoriya texted me to let me know that you’d be joining us today.”

Katsuki stared at the man. He had so many questions, so many accusations. At the same time, he couldn’t help but to have to smush down that twisty weight in his chest. What was so special about this guy that had Deku out and about? What did this guy have that Katsuki didn’t?

Deku joined them shortly, leaving Katsuki no time to voice any of his grievances.

Deku was still a bit fidgety and awkward about Katsuki being there, but he still wore his signature doofy grin all the same. Nest-Hair, however, didn’t waste any time getting into their routine.

The three stretched first. Deku and Nest-Hair did some breathing exercises or whatever. And then they were off jogging around the park. It was a silent, steady run. Katsuki had half-expected Deku to have to stick to a snail’s pace, but, yet again the guy surprised him with maintaining a respectable speed the entire time.

At around the ten-minute marker, however, Deku had to stop to take a breather. He stretched again, doing those yoga looking poses that Katsuki had seen yesterday, and then drank a bit of water.

Katsuki watched Deku like a hawk the entire time. But Deku didn’t show any signs of strain or stress. He didn’t try to hide it behind a stupid grin when he had to cough or breath heavily. In fact, Deku and Nest-Hair maintained open communication about his energy and limits.

Soon they set off to jog some more. At the next break - this time about fifteen minutes later - Katsuki continued to stare at Deku, as if he could piece together exactly what had spurred the kid forward just by nauseating himself with the view long enough.

"Oi." Katsuki said, as Deku was doing a warrior pose. 

Deku glanced over at Katsuki. 

"How long have you been doing this exercise shit?"

"Oh." Deku fumbled in the stance a little, but then switched legs to start another warrior pose. "I, um, think almost a year now. But I wasn't good at it at all when I first started out! Toshinori-san has been a great coach."

Katsuki gritted his teeth and glared for the hundredth time at Nest-Hair. He still had no idea what nerve this man had to take some weak kid like Deku and train him into sports. On the topic of sports, though...

"Why the hell did you choose the News Club?" That wasn't physical at all, and it didn't make any sense to what Katsuki knew of Deku's usual interests. What he used to know.

Deku shifted into the next warrior pose. "Well, I guess since I spent so long holed up at home... I wanted to get as involved with campus life as much as possible. But it's not like I could take on all the seven clubs I was initially considering, you know? And then Uraraka said she had joined the News Club and they were looking for people with graphic design and editing skills. Which is stuff I can do! I don't really do a lot of the interviewing, since I tend to get flustered on camera. But it's really fun work overall and - "

"Young Midoriya, breathe while you're stretching." Nest-Hair reminded sharply. 

Deku apologized, a little red in the face, and then took a few breaths. 

Graphic design and editing? Since when had Deku gotten into that stuff? Though, in some faded memories, Katsuki remembered that Deku drew a lot as a kid. When he had to sit out gym or couldn't keep up at playtime, the nerd tended to fall back on doodling stuff. (Most of the time Deku just drew stuff from Pro Hero comics. Katsuki didn't even want to know how many drawings of All Might were scattered around that otaku's room.)

From what Katsuki remembered, Deku wasn't bad at art. It was probably the only thing he wasn't bad at. 

Well, until now, apparently. 

Katsuki didn't want to ask anymore questions. He was afraid of the response. Afraid to find out that Deku might have already taken on way more than his childhood self could ever chew. 

The three ran a few laps around the park before they settled on the workout for the day.

In the end, Katsuki just had to accept it. Deku _was_ getting better.

And Katsuki had no idea if he felt relieved, or even more pissed off.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When do you think Bakugou is gonna figure out that the universe doesn't revolve around him, and that Midoriya is allowed to have a fun, fulfilling life outside of his friendship with Bakugou? Only time ~~and my ability to write this fic~~ will tell!


End file.
